


Drabbles

by jakia



Category: Glee
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-11-07
Updated: 2012-11-07
Packaged: 2017-11-18 04:52:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 5,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/557100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jakia/pseuds/jakia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Little ficlets that are too small to be on their own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. On the Outside [Kurt/Blaine]

**Author's Note:**

> Gender shenanigans drabble. Light NSFW for references to fucking and boys wearing panties because why not?

 

* * *

 

Kurt knows what they look like, on the outside, on the surface.

He knows what Blaine looks like: dark, hairy, appropriately masculine in a way Kurt’s never been able to be. He’s sporty and charming and has an appropriately-male sounding voice. He’s the “man” in their relationship.

Kurt knows what he looks like, too: fair, bright-eyed, soft-features and a high-pitched voice that screams “feminine gay twink” to anyone who looks at him.

In some ways, they aren’t wrong. Kurt  _is_  feminine. He likes fashion, and cooking, and show tunes. Sometimes, yes, he even likes having a cock in his ass.  He likes it when Blaine woos him, likes Blaine to lead when they dance, likes Blaine’s arms wrapped around him, warm and strong.

It’s why Blaine’s carrying him across the threshold right now, even though Kurt’s his new husband, not a bride, and there’s nothing wrong with that.

But outside appearances aren’t everything.

Outside appearances don’t tell you that Blaine is taking Kurt’s last name tonight. Outside appearances don’t tell you that Blaine  _loves_  getting fucked, loves it when Kurt takes control and dominates him, both in bed and out. Outside appearances don’t tell you that sometimes Kurt can be a workaholic and a little bit neglectful, and that Blaine is really emotionally needy sometimes, that he cries a lot, that sometimes he just wants to be held, that he likes being the little spoon.

Outside appearances don’t tell you that underneath Blaine’s expensive black suit, he’s wearing a pair of white lace panties that Kurt plans on ripping off with his _teeth_  later tonight.

So yes, Kurt knows what they look like on the outside. It’s not wrong.

But it’s not everything.


	2. Halloween [Kurt/Blaine + Burt]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> catyuy asked: Klaine, Burt's thoughts on Blaine and Kurt's Halloween costumes for 2011. Or anything about others reacting to them dressing up as Snooki and the Situation.

Burt nearly spills coffee all over his expensive suit.

“You’re wearing a dress.”

His son only rolls his eyes at him.  ”I’m  _Snooki_ , Dad.  It’s a costume.  For Halloween?  Blaine and I are going Trick or Treating.”  He fluffs up his wig like he would if it were actually his hair.  ”Besides, this isn’t  _nearly_  the most controversial outfit I’ve worn out of the house.”

Burt nods.  That much, at least, is true.  He takes a long sip of his coffee.  ”Blaine know you’re going out in a dress for Halloween?”

“Of course he does.”  Like Burt is stupid for even thinking he might not. 

“This his idea?”

Kurt purses his lips.  ”No.  He wanted to be Bryan Ferry instead.  I told him no one would get, and we compromised.”

For a moment, Burt worries.  He wonders what Blaine will dress up as, if Kurt will be the only one to put himself out there, to risk getting hurt like this.  Blaine’s a good kid, but he tends to be a lot more… _cautious_  than Kurt is, which is both a good thing and a bad thing at times.

Right as he’s about to ask, though, Blaine slides down the stairs, in baggy jeans and a rolled up dirty t-shirt, looking like, for lack of better terms, _a giant douchebag._

“Heeyyy! What’s a guy gotta do to get a candy situation up in here?”

No, Burt thinks, the two of them will be just fine.


	3. Is that a carrot? (daddy!Kurt)

“Is that a carrot?”

Kurt stopped chopping, looking over at his mysterious kitchen guest.  ”No, sweetie, it’s a parsnip.” He held up the root so his four year old son could see it better.  ”See? It’s white and thicker than a carrot.”

Eli’s nose scrunched up.  ”Is it a vega—vegit—veg—”

“Vegetable.” He corrected softly.

“Yeah! That!” Eli smiled.  ”I dun’t like vegetables. Can we have pizza instead?”

“You always want pizza.” Kurt laughed softly, placing his cutting board and knife in the sink.  

“Yeah, because it’s  _yummy_.” Eli rolled his eyes, like it was the most logical thing in the world.  He was certainly a  _sassy_  thing, for someone so small.  Kurt blamed Blaine.  ”Can we have pizza instead?  _Please?”_

Kurt knelt down so that he was eye-level with his son.  ”Tell you what: if you and your sister eat  _all_  of your vegetables with supper tonight, we’ll have pizza for dinner tomorrow .”

He scrunched his nose.  ” _All_  of them?”

Kurt nodded solemnly. “Every last bite.”

His son looked at the big bowl of parsnips on the counter, then back to his father, and then back to the veggies.  ”You promise?”

He crossed his heart playfully.  ”I promise.”

That seemed to appease the boy, who grinned and then held his hand out for his daddy to shake, like the little gentleman he was.  ”Deal!”


	4. 4th of July, first year as dog parents

In their defense, they hadn’t had Bubbles that long.  Also in their defense, neither of them had had a dog growing up, and weren’t exactly familiar with how most dogs reacted to the sound of fireworks, especially in a city as bustling as New York, on a day like the forth of July.

Another firecracker went off; Bubbles tried to bury herself further under the couch.

“We are the worst dog-parents in the entire world,” Blaine whined, trying to coax their baby—a full grown Jack Russel terrier—out from under the couch.  Bubbles wasn’t having any of it, however, and ignored Blaine entirely.  “Seriously, the worst.”

Kurt sighed and held out the bag of treats.  “It’s okay, girl, you can come out.  They’re just fireworks.  They won’t hurt you.”  Bubbles gently poked her nose out at the scent of the treat.  “That’s a good girl, come on now.”

Very, very slowly, Bubbles crawled out from under the couch, and into Blaine’s willing lap.  Kurt handed her the treat, petting her dark fur gently.  “That’s a good girl.  It’ll be okay.  We’ve got you.” Blaine wrapped his arms around her carefully, giving her a gentle hug.

Another round of fireworks went off, and Bubbles tried to claw her way out of Blaine’s arms.

“Ow. Ow ow ow ow.   _Kurt!”_ Blaine yelped, trying to keep the dog from running off while also trying to avoid a claw to the face.  “Do something!”

“What am I supposed to do?” Kurt cried.  “If we let her go, she’s going to claw up the couch!”

“Yes, and if we  _don’t_  let her go, she’s going to claw off my  _face._ ” Another firework went off, and Bubbles yelped and tried once again to get out of Blaine’s arms. 

Kurt frowned.  “Maybe we shouldn’t have gotten a dog.”

“She’s just  _scared_.  Poor girl probably thinks she’s being attacked or something— _ow_ , Bubbles,  _down_.”  Blaine winced softly.  “Promise me we’ll go looking for a house? Soon? Preferably one with a  _yard_  so she can run around and be scared without hurting the furniture  _or_  my face?”

Kurt sat down on the floor beside them, wrapping his arms around Blaine around Bubbles. He kissed his husband’s forehead gently.  “First thing in the morning.  I promise.”

With her daddies’ arms wrapped around her, Bubbles whined louder.

“How much longer will the fireworks be going off, you think?”

Kurt looked up at the clock.  “It’s nine-thirty, so—-thirty minutes at least.”

This time, Blaine whined in unison with the dog.


	5. 034. Conditional

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: mpreg in a dream, though not in real life.

Blaine wakes up with a start, his heart pounding in his chest and sweat dripping off of him.  
  
Beside him, his husband yawns and rolls over.  “Y’okay?”  
  
Blaine breathes.  “Yeah, just…bad dream.”  
  
Kurt yawns again, and wraps his arm around Blaine’s middle.  “Wanna talk about it?”  
  
“I dreamed you got me pregnant.”  
  
Kurt snorts, a little more awake.  “That  _is_  terrifying.”  
  
Blaine nudges him with his elbow.  “Shut up.”  
  
“Hey now, be nice.” Kurt kisses his chest, and Blaine laughs lightly.  “So, you dreamed I got you pregnant.  Then what happened?”  
  
“I, uh, gave birth.  To triplets.”  
  
“ _Also_  terrifying.”  
  
“They were cute.” Blaine says quietly, to the darkness and his half-asleep husband.  “They had your eyes, and my hair.  They were fussy and small, but they were ours and I loved them.”  
  
Kurt blinks back awake, slowly.  “So what went wrong?”  
  
“You didn’t want them.” He blinks back tears, the image of dream!Kurt yelling and screaming at him still so vivid in his mind.  “And you didn’t want  _me_.”  
  
Kurt sits up slowly.  “Blaine—“  
  
“You said this wasn’t what you wanted, that you hadn’t signed up for babies and a fat husband—“  
  
“Blaine—“  
  
“—so you kicked us out, and I didn’t have anywhere to go.  My parents wouldn’t let me come back home because they thought I was some sort of abomination and—“  
  
“Blaine—“  
  
“—and I was living on the streets with these three screaming babies when I all wanted was to come home but you didn’t want _me_.”  
  
“Blaine!” Kurt wraps his arms around him tightly.  “Baby, it was just a dream.”  
  
Blaine sobs, folding himself into Kurt’s arms.  Kurt still seems startled, but he holds his husband regardless, letting him cry irrationally against him.  
  
“It’s okay,” Kurt kisses him gently, rubbing his arms against him.  “It’s okay, baby, I’m here.”  
  
Blaine slowly stopped crying, pulling himself gently from Kurt’s arms.  “I know, and I’m sorry I’m reacting like this, it was just so real and—”  
  
“No, it wasn’t.” Kurt argues stubbornly.  “Blaine, I’m going to always want you. Even if you’re as big as a house and somehow magically get pregnant, I’m going to want you because I love you.”  
  
“I know,” Blaine admits.  “I guess I just—old insecurities acting up again.”  
  
Kurt kisses him softly.  “My love isn’t conditional, Blaine.  It’s yours, for as long as you want it, until death do us part.”  
  
Blaine laughs, suddenly, with a wide grin.  “So, you’ll love me if I break the laws of physics and get pregnant, but not if I turn into a zombie? I see how you are.”  
  
Kurt hits him with a pillow.


	6. 010. Stranger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (a/n: genderqueer!Blaine/discussion of gender dysphoria enjoy)

Blaine Anderson looks in the mirror, and a stranger looks back at him.  
  
Not all the time, though.  Sometimes he looks in the mirror and sees who he’s supposed to be: a boy Kurt Hummel loves, gay and male, with dapper gelled down curls and a stylish bowtie.  Some days he can look at that in the mirror and think, yes, this is me, this is who I am, who I want to be.  
  
Not all the time, though.  Sometimes he cannot stand to look in the mirror, because he doesn’t recognize the person staring back at him (her).  The body isn’t right—it’s wrong, that’s not her (him).  He doesn’t recognize the person looking back at him.  
  
Wade Adams makes Blaine uncomfortable for a lot of reasons, but he’s not willing to talk to Kurt about any of them.  Not yet, anyway.  Maybe not ever.  
  
(Is it because of Unique? Is he jealous, because sometimes he’d like to—not all the time, but sometimes he wants—s/he wants to wear—wants to be brave enough to—-)  
  
And he’s not trans, because he’s not—well, not always—he doesn’t want to be different.  He doesn’t want to be a girl, but sometimes he does, and it’s hard, and confusing, and he hates it.  
  
Mostly, he’d just like to look in the mirror some days, and not see a stranger looking back.


	7. 046. Writer’s Choice—Klaine in the South (1)

Visiting Finn in Georgia might be the most random idea Kurt that has ever had.

But. Well. Burt and Carole can’t go, Rachel is still not speaking to him, and Puck and Sam together are far too mutually broke.  And Finn is  _lonely_ , in a new place all by himself, and, well, Family Day is coming up soon, and isn’t Kurt family?  Aren’t they  _brothers_  now?

And it’s not like Kurt’s doing anything else this summer, anyway.  Not after being rejected from NYADA, especially.

Besides, he and Blaine have sort of made this summer all about traveling.  They’ve spent time in California with Cooper, they’ve spent time in DC with Burt, and now, apparently, they’re going to spend a week in Georgia with Finn.

(Besides, if he keeps traveling, keeps moving, keeps busy, he spends less time thinking about NYADA, and that can only ever be a good thing.)

“It’s just—“ Blaine says, when Kurt first pitches the idea.  “Georgia?  _Really?_ ”

“It’s Finn.” Kurt explains, like maybe that encompasses everything.  “So yeah, Georgia.  You in?”

Blaine smiles, and squeezes his hand.  “With you, I’ll go anywhere.”


	8. 012. Bitter

They make a point not to fight in front of the kids.   Blaine’s parents apparently only ever fought, and he struggles sometimes to think of his family spending time together when his parents weren’t fighting constantly.   And Kurt barely remembers having two parents when he was little, so he definitely doesn’t remember them fighting at all, but that’s also not something he wants his own children to experience.

So, that’s the rule: no fighting in front of the kids.

It makes it hard, sometimes, though.

When Kurt brings home a pizza after work even though Blaine has spent all day trying to cook a healthy meal, Blaine doesn’t say anything, because there are two little ones underfoot who are excited to eat pizza rather than soup.  Or when Blaine indulges and buys their kids toys they don’t need and they can’t really afford, Kurt doesn’t say anything because their kids are so happy, so  _look Daddy! Look what Dad bought us!_

It means they’ve stopped fighting over little things, the things that don’t really matter. 

But it also makes them bitter, makes them resent each other, sometimes. 

Makes it hard to remember that they love each other, some days.


	9. 044. Piggybank

Kurt is dating a four year old.  That’s really the only explanation.

“Don’t make fun of Mr. Piggy,” Blaine teases, poking Kurt gently in the stomach as Kurt judges the hot pink, bowtie-clad piggybank onBlaine’s dresser.  “I’ve had him forever.  My New York fund is in there.”

“Most grown ups use  _banks_.”

“Yes, well, that’s boring.” Blaine shrugs, shaking the porcelain piggy gently.  “This is more fun.  Hear that?  That is the sound of all the New York coffee I’m going to buy you next year.”

Kurt snorts.  “You’re ridiculous.”     _And adorable.  And handsome, and sweet, and talented, and I am going to miss you so much in a few weeks that my heart already hurts just thinking about it, and you’re still right here beside me._ “I can buy my own coffee.”

Blaine smiles, and kisses his cheek softly.  “But next year, you won’t have to, because me and Mr. Piggy will be there to buy it for you.”

“That’s sweet.  It’s also rather cute of you to think I’m letting you bring that hideous thing into our apartment.”

“But  _Kurt—“_

“Absolutely not.”

(A year later, the hideous piggybank sits on their dresser, covered in bowties and flowers and neatly tucked behind a picture of Kurt and Blaine from Blaine’s graduation so Kurt can avoid looking at it directly.  But it’s still there, and every so often Blaine takes a moment to remind Kurt of that, usually with a surprise grande non-fat mocha, but often with just a kiss.)

(It’s worth it, if only for that.)


	10. Kurt didn’t get into NYADA; therefore, he should join S.H.I.E.L.D.

“So, how do you feel about both of your sons enlisting?”

Burt dropped the newspaper.  “You joined the army?”

Kurt looked down at his feet.  “Not the army, no.”  He then dropped a small pile of pamphlets down on the kitchen table.

Burt eyed them suspiciously.  “S.H.I.E.L.D.  Am I supposed to know what that is?”

“Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division,” Kurt explained, as if repeating verbatim what was told to him.  “They’re, um, spies.”

“ _Spies?”_

“Apparently I come highly recommended.” Kurt choked out a mix between a cough and a laugh.  “Um.  Coach Sylvester wrote to Mr. Fury and told them if they were still looking for recruits, they should consider me.  When I went to drop off Finn at the recruitment office, Mr. Fury was waiting for me.” He swallowed thickly.  “Apparently I aced quite a lot of tests that I didn’t know were tests, and now they want me.  Enough so that the head director of S.H.I.E.L.D. was the one to come to try and recruit me.  And since I didn’t get into NYADA and I don’t really have any other plans…I’m considering it.”

Burt blinked back at him.  “This is—this is  _big_ , Kurt.  And I’m so proud of you for getting their attention and all, I just—“ his dad sighed somberly.  “I just thought you wanted something different, that’s all.  I thought you wanted Broadway, New York—“

“Stark Tower is in New York.  After basic training I could request to be stationed there, work under Mr. Stark.”

“—with you’re name in all kinds of different lights, you know?  I thought you wanted to be someone special.”

“But Dad,” Kurt smiled widely.  “Isn’t being a part of something special what makes you special?”


	11. Rachel marries Cooper but really wants to marry Klaine

Cooper Anderson will be Rachel Berry’s third husband.

She’s twenty-nine, and she doesn’t see a problem with that, really.

She’s been Mrs. Hudson (bad idea).  She’s been Mrs. St. James (also a really bad idea).  And in a couple of months, she’ll be Mrs. Anderson, which is all she’s ever really wanted when she was seventeen anyway, even if she didn’t realize he had a hot older brother at the time.

(She is hoping that this is a very good idea: it’s not, really.  In four years, Cooper will be yet another ex-husband of Rachel Berry’s that she’s left behind in the dust of her fame. 

(At least there will be no kids involved with this divorce: if the world has to deal with another St. James vs. Berry custody battle, it will be too soon.

(When Rachel is a Broadway legend and a culture icon of her generation, the biography channel will do a special just on Rachel Berry’s ex-husbands.  Finn will talk the most, but Cooper—from his sheer ability of just being  _Cooper_ —will be the most entertaining. Jesse’s might’ve been more interesting if his every other word hadn’t been bleeped out.)

“So, you married my stepbrother,” Kurt will tease her gently, on the morning of her wedding day, braiding white stephanotises into her hair.  “And now you’re marrying Blaine’s  _actual_ brother.  Let’s face it, Rachel Berry—you really just want to marry me and Blaine, didn’t you?”

She doesn’t have the heart to tell him how terrifyingly  _right_  he is: so what she’ll say instead is that she’s always preferred taller men, and he and Blaine just don’t quite tower over her enough for her liking, thanks, when really all she wants is to fall asleep next to both of these boys, to hold their hands when she’s frightened, to kiss them good morning every day and smile at them over cups of shared coffee.

She’ll never tell them.  She  _can’t_.

She loves them too much to ruin their happiness with her own.


	12. a typical night at the Hudson-Hummel-Evans home

Rachel Berry suspects that, in different circumstances, she would have found this arousing.  Three handsome, beautiful men in their underwear, hitting each other with pillows,  _sounds_  sexy, but the reality is actually far more violent.

“Did Kurt actually just punch Finn in the face?” Rachel asks, a little concerned.

Blaine nods.  ”Yeah, but he did it with a pillow.  It’s totally fine.  And within the rules.”

On his other side, Mercedes’s whispers “Did Sam just bite Finn’s ankle?”

“I think so.  But to be fair, he was aiming for Kurt because he punched him in the dick, so.”

Rachel gasps as the trio tumbled down on top of each other, with nothing but sweat, boys, and pillows between them—Sam still grabbing at Finn’s ankles, and Kurt with his claws out. “I don’t know if I’m aroused or horrified.”

Blaine shrugs before passing her the large bowl of popcorn.  ”No rule that says you can’t be both.”


	13. Kurt can see the future. (light NSFW)

Sometimes, when Kurt touches people, he can see a glimpse of their future.

It doesn’t happen all the time.  (God, what if it did?  He could never touch anyone.)  He never knows when it’s going to happen, either.  It’s unpredictable that way.  People have bumped into him in the hallway, and he’s seen them give birth.  It’s strange and wonderful and bizarre, but it’s also his life.  He’s used to it now; it’s as common to him as breathing.  
  
He’s not often a part of other people’s futures, however.  
  
He’s seen Rachel Berry sing to a sold out crowd; he’s seen Noah Puckerman wrestling with his two little daughters; he’s seen Sam Evans propose.  He’s never seen  _himself_ , though, never seen his own future.  
  
When he was younger, he used to worry that that meant he died young or something, but as he got older he realized that it was less a chance of him dying, and more he just wasn’t there in the moments he’d seen.  In fact, the only time he remembers seeing himself was when he saw his father’s second wedding to Mrs. Hudson, and even then he had been crying happy tears.  
  
When Blaine Anderson takes his hand for the very first time on the staircase at Dalton, Kurt sees them fucking.    
  
It’s…strange, and beautiful, and bizarre.  He’s never even been kissed, much less done anything remotely sexual, and yet the Kurt in his vision had been going at it like a pro.    
  
 _(They had been somewhere: a hotel, or maybe an apartment, far from Ohio, with the noise of a large city echoing outside their room.  Blaine—and it takes him a minute, but yes, that’s Blaine, that’s the boy who grabbed his hand just a few seconds ago—is on top of him, a stranger’s body, surreal and beautiful—riding his cock like he was born to.  “_ Harder, _Kurt,” future Blaine whispers to him.  “Harder.”_  
  
 _His older self thrusts up, and Blaine moans his name loudly.  The future Kurt grips his waist tighter.  “I’m so close, baby.”_  
  
 _“I know.  I am—oh God, right there, right—”_  
  
 _Then Blaine comes, and Kurt follows him, and they lay there in the dark, entangled in each other’s arms.  “I love you.” Blaine whispers softly in his ear, curled onto Kurt’s chest._  
  
 _Kurt smiles, and brushes a stray curl off of his face.  “I know.  I love you, too.  I can’t wait to marry you.”)_  
  
“—Kurt?  Kurt?  Hey, are you okay?”  Blaine asks, snapping him back to the present.  “You kind of blanked out for a second there.  Do you need some water? Are you alright?”  
  
Kurt blinks back to the present, and looks straight into—yes, that’s him.  It’s a younger face, with brighter eyes and gelled back curls, but it’s the same boy.  The same boy Kurt can’t wait to marry one day.  
  
He swallows, and squeezes Blaine’s hand.  “I think I’ll be alright.  Things are…starting to look up for me now.”


	14. immediately after the episode

After they finish “My Love is Your Love”, Kurt convinces Blaine to climb on top of the piano with him.

Mr. Schue is talking, and Kurt is  _really_ not listening, because his boyfriend, the one he loves so, so much, is snuggled against him on top of a piano, and it feels so, so good.  He’s  _missed_ Blaine.  And he can’t help but kiss him, even though they are surrounded by friends—but no one is paying attention to them, it’ll be fine. 

He means it as just a quick little peck, but it’s—it’s been far too long, and this is spontaneous and beautiful and full of love, and holy shit, when did Blaine slip his tongue into his mouth?  Oh, he’s  _missed_  him so much.

They forget they have an audience entirely until Puck starts singing [“Let’s Get It On”](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=go_tRctLmbc) complete with Santana, Brittany, and Tina providing background vocals.  Rachel is blushing.  Artie looks aroused, while Finn looks confused.  Joe is contemplative, Mercedes is teasing.  Quinn’s smile is infectious, as is Sam’s.

Mike looks proud.

Mr. Schue, thank god, is nowhere to be found.

“Bow-chicka-bow-wow,” Santana chimes as soon as Puck is done singing, making ridiculous sexual hand motions.  ”Get it, Hummel.  Glad to see you two kissed and made up.”

Kurt blushes as Blaine buries his head into Kurt’s shoulder.  

“Oh, shut up.” He says, too happy to let them get him down. “Like  _all of you_ haven’t made out in front of everybody before.  You can stop judging us now.”

“Oh, there’s no judgment here, Hummel.  I’m happy for you.” Santana winks.  ”Besides, I’d rather see you two make out than  _Finchel_  here.”

“Hey!”


	15. Blaine + Mike talking about their future plans? (Mike planning on being Kurt's roommate)

“You aren’t allowed to steal my boyfriend.”

Mike laughs louder than he means to.  ”Alright.  You aren’t allowed to steal my girlfriend, either.”

“I’m  _serious._ ” Blaine says, lightly punching Mike’s arm.  ”And you’ve got to make sure no hot, older New York City boys steal him away from me.”

Mike chuckles.  ”Oh  _Blaine._ ”

“And make sure he doesn’t kill Rachel.  He’ll want to.  I know he’ll want to.  You have to stop him.” He pauses, thinking for a moment. “Don’t let him kill Santana, either.”

“Right.  Don’t let your boyfriend commit homicide, got it.” Mike grins.  ”Anything else?”

Blaine leans his head on Mike’s shoulder.  ”Take me with you? I’m rather small—I bet I can fit in your suitcase.”

Mike smiles sadly.  ”It’s only a year.”

“It’s going to be a  _long_ year.”

“Maybe,” Mike admits.  ”But you’ll visit.  And we’ll visit.  And next year, we’ll all get our own apartments across from each other.  We’ll be like a new generation of  _Friends_  but better dancers.”

“And singers.  And better dressed.”

“ _Exactly._ So don’t be so sad, alright?” Mike hugs him gently.  ”You’ll be with us soon.”

“I know.” Blaine sighs.  ”Just…just keep an eye on them, alright? Make sure they don’t get in too much trouble?”

Mike nods. “I will.  You watch out for Tina and Artie for me too, won’t you?”

“Of course.  And then next year…”

Mike hugs him.  ”We’ll all be there together.  I promise.”


	16. 3.14 spoilers/drabble

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Possibly triggering.

This is what Kurt doesn’t say to Karofsky.

He doesn’t say:

The day you kissed me, I went home and tried to kill myself.  

He doesn’t say:

I sat in the shower for over an hour with a razor blade in my hand.  I cut myself in the shower.  Not deep enough to kill myself, but enough to get blood everywhere.

He doesn’t say:

The months between November and February, I did not wear a single outfit that let anyone see my wrists.  At least, not until the scars had healed up and my skin was smooth again, so much so that you could not even tell they had been there, once.

He doesn’t say:

The day you threatened to kill me, I went home and stared at a bottle of my father’s heart medicine and wondered how fast it would kill me, before my father found me and told me Dalton had accepted my transfer, and then started hiding his medication.

He doesn’t say _Courage_.  That’s more of Blaine’s speech, anyway, even if it was a very good speech.  

And he doesn’t say  _courage means being brave enough to want to wake up again tomorrow_ , though maybe he should.  

He doesn’t say anything, for a while.  He just sits there and holds Karofsky’s hand and says, without words, that it’s okay.  You aren’t alone. You never were, really.

That’s what saved his own life, once.  Maybe it will work again today.


	17. AU: Zombies

This is not the life Kurt would have chosen for himself.

It’s not New York, but then again, New York’s not safe anymore.  Nowhere is but here, maybe, and Kurt’s not even really sure  _where_  here is.  They drove until they ran out of gas, going as far away from—from people, from the disease—as they could.

They didn’t build the farm—it had been here, abandoned, long before they got here, but it’s their home now.  It’s an ideal location, too—as far from civilization as you can get, and mostly flat, so if something does come their way they can see it coming.  The previous owner left behind his rather impressive collection of guns and ammo, and so they’re still safe, for the most part.

Their closest neighbor is thirty miles away.  Occasionally Lisbet and her daughter will meet with them, to trade whatever meat and veggies and ammo they’ve managed to scrounge up, but they never stay long.  It’s too dangerous, anyway, interacting with people.  No one is sure how, exactly, the disease spreads, and until there’s a cure it’s too risky.

The disease wiped out Kurt’s entire family in less than a week.  He knows how dangerous it is, how quickly it can spread.  He’s only grateful that Blaine’s still with him, still alive and healthy and strong, not dead and yet still walking about.

His boyfriend—husband? Partner?—is surprisingly difficult to kill.  They both are.  It’s why they’re still alive when so many around them are not.

They farm.  It’s the only reliable way to get uncontaminated food, and he and Blaine—well, it’s a wonder they didn’t starve, the first couple of years.  But they learned, and flourished, and now they have enough food for them, the chickens they traded Lisbet for, and some extra that they’ve canned, in case the winter is too long and harsh again.

And, maybe, for a child someday.  Blaine wants one, desperately, and even tries to convince Kurt to go looking in the cities, that some children  _must_  have survived,  _must_  need someone to look after them—but Kurt’s not convinced.  Until they hear on their old beat-up radio that the disease is gone, that the world is safe again, it’s too risky.

He can’t lose Blaine, too.

So, they farm.  Its hard work, and often thankless, and much of what they plant ends up dead because they don’t really know what they’re doing.  Blaine’s better at it than Kurt is, able to work outside without burning for longer, so Kurt primarily does the cooking and the canning.

It’s not the life they wanted, but it’s still  _life_ , which is so much more than what so many have now.

Besides, they still sing.  Alone on their farm, far from the now-dimmed lights of Broadway and fame, and often without music, they still sing. They’re together, and they can sing.

It’s enough for now.


End file.
